


positive coping mechanisms

by paradoxikay



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Dom/sub, Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Rope Bondage, Trans Prompto, Vaginal Sex, one hundred and five percent self indulgent........
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 14:28:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10743579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paradoxikay/pseuds/paradoxikay
Summary: Stress weighs heavily on all four of them, but perhaps Prompto most of all. In the midst of so much chaos and uncertainty, Ignis finds the time to remind Prompto that he is cherished and loved.With rope. As one does.





	positive coping mechanisms

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so glad this fandom seems to have more or less unanimously decided that Prompto is the biggest praise slut.
> 
> Here's my contribution to this noble cause!

“Hey, Iggy…”

It surprises Ignis not at all that Prompto is much less soundly asleep than he’s been pretending to be for the past hour – or that he only “wakes” after Gladio and Noct have gathered as many camping supplies as they can carry and started for the nearby haven. He’s been on edge the better part of the day, jumpy and unsociable, and Ignis suspects the upset stomach he claims to have is little more than an excuse for his behavior.

Not that he needs one. None of them are about to blame him for being stressed, in what is, to put it mildly, a very stressful situation. But neither is Ignis about to blame him for choosing to withdraw instead of putting those feelings into words. There have been many “upset stomachs” between the four of them, over the course of this road trip gone awry.

“Once we’ve got camp set up and everything – I mean, if you’re too tired, that’s cool, but…” It’s easy to envision the way Prompto shifts, teeth sinking into his lip, even without turning to face him. “Could you maybe – tie me up?”

Now he does turn towards Prompto, taking a moment to consider, not the question, but the one asking it – still curled into himself in the passenger seat, miserable with tension, all forced nonchalance disposed of with their two companions out of sight. How much of that is the stress weighing heavy on all their shoulders, and how much is worry that his question won’t be well-received?

“Like I said, it’s – just forget I asked, it’s fine –“

“I will do no such thing.”

Any doubt as to whether they have the time for such an indulgence vanishes when he reaches across the center console to rest a hand on Prompto’s shoulder, and Prompto _shivers_ at the contact. If he can lighten that heavy burden even for a short while – if doing so does not interfere with his sworn duty to the _other_ young man he would give anything to protect –

“It would be my pleasure,” he says, and he can _feel_ Prompto relax, the tension easing from his shoulders under Ignis’ touch, and he knows there is no other answer he could in good conscience give.

\--

Gladio makes no secret of knowing exactly why he and Noct are being asked to make themselves scarce for the evening, but he agrees readily enough. Noct shoots a glance full of longing towards the newly-pitched tent, but the promise of burgers and a few rounds of Justice Monsters Five sways him towards tagging along to the rest stop a mile or so up the road.

“I can't believe you sexiled _Noct_ ,” Prompto says, as he watches them vanish around a bend in the road. “Isn’t that, like, _treason_? Actually, no, don’t answer that, you probably _have_ an answer and I don’t – oh…”

His nervous chatter comes to an abrupt halt as Ignis comes up behind him and pulls him close. His hands settle atop Ignis’ at his waist, and he relaxes against Ignis’ chest, eyes fluttering closed as he tips his head back against Ignis’ shoulder.

“Hush now, love. I have you.”

Prompto makes a soft, wordless noise of assent, and squeezes Ignis’ hands in silent thanks.

They stay like that for a minute, Prompto a strangely comforting weight against Ignis’ chest as he calms himself and trusts in Ignis to support him. When he finally pulls away, it’s only to turn and fling his arms around Ignis’ neck, leaning in close to kiss his cheek. Knowing how much Prompto struggles with the urge to fill any silence makes these quiet gestures all the more meaningful, and, smiling, Ignis kisses his forehead in return.

“Now then – in the tent with you.”

It’s hardly the ideal setting for this sort of thing, but they make do. His sleeping bag and the inflatable pad beneath it are sufficient to cushion their knees from the cold stone, and a few towels laid out over that keep mess to a minimum. The close quarters don’t leave Ignis with much room to work, true, but there is a certain intimacy to the closeness that he sometimes finds himself missing when they have a whole room to themselves.

Prompto is pulling his shirt over his head before he's all the way inside, but even in his haste he remembers to fold his clothes instead of leaving them in a heap. Such good behavior shouldn’t go unrewarded, and so Ignis merely strips off his gloves and waits until Prompto is naked and kneeling to open their toy bag and retrieve the neat coils of black rope he intends to use.

It isn’t just the act of being restrained that Prompto enjoys. In fact, though he certainly does enjoy restraint, Ignis suspects that comes second to the rope itself, and the ritual attached to it. Simply watching as Ignis uncoils the rope, runs it through his hands, arouses him as much as any foreplay – leaves him flushed halfway down his chest, breath catching on each inhalation, hands curled into fists atop his thighs from the effort of remaining quiet and still and _good_ when he _wants_ so badly.

On another evening, Ignis might keep him waiting. But he wants tonight to be comforting, _safe_ , and teasing would be rather counterproductive.

“Arms behind your back,” he says, and Prompto immediately scrambles to obey. He knows without being told how Ignis wants his arms, folded behind him with each hand grasping the opposite arm near the elbow. That’s exactly where he has them by the time Ignis has come up close behind him. “Very good.”

Prompto sucks in a sharp breath at the praise, then lets it out as a whimper when Ignis rests a steadying hand on his back. He truly is a wonderful submissive, in no small part because of how beautifully reactive he is. Even without permission to speak (one of the first things Ignis ever denied him, at Prompto’s own request, because Prompto knew full well his propensity for idle chatter clashed badly with the atmosphere they both sought), he provides ample feedback, and Ignis is never left wondering whether a certain approach works for him or not.

Now, he can be sure Prompto is ready when Prompto goes completely still under his hand, slipping into that mental space where _obedience_ is a far higher priority than the need to fidget. For a moment Ignis is overcome by how terribly fond he is of this wonderful, beautiful boy, and he presses a kiss to the crown of Prompto’s head before taking up the rope.

First he binds Prompto’s arms at the wrists, careful to bring the rope over the wristband he never takes off so the tie holds it in place instead of dislodging it. Then he brings the rope up against his upper arm and across his chest, running his free hand along it to make sure the twin strands lie flat against Prompto’s skin. Loop it around the column of rope forming in back, bring it back up the other way, and…

He’s done this particular tie enough times that he hardly has to think, guided more by muscle memory than conscious thought. There truly is something special to the ritual of being bound; just as Prompto seems almost hypnotized by it before Ignis so much as touches him, Ignis finds a welcome peace in the sensation of rope sliding through his hands. With experience comes proficiency, and it takes him less than ten minutes to have Prompto bound to his satisfaction. He tucks the last few inches of rope into the knot above Prompto’s wrists, then moves in front of Prompto to study his handiwork.

From the front it looks deceptively simple –  just two bands of four strands each, cinched tight between his chest and arms. Simple, elegant, and so very effective. And Prompto wears it so beautifully, the black rope standing out in striking contrast to his fair skin. He’s hardly moved in the past ten minutes, and it is only the sudden lack of Ignis’ hands on him that makes him lift his head, seeking out Ignis’ eyes and shooting him a look of unadulterated _want_. He has become very, very good at making his desires known without a single word, and Ignis, laughing softly, rests a hand on his thigh as he considers his next move.

“Spread your legs for me.” He gives the inside of Prompto’s knee a light tap to emphasize his point, and Prompto immediately shifts his weight up off his heels so he can slide his legs apart. His inner thighs are slick, and when Ignis cups a hand over his vulva, barely even touching him, he _whines_ and presses insistently into the touch. So eager, so needy, all from a simple length of rope; no matter how many times they do this, Ignis remains fascinated by the intensity of Prompto’s reaction.

He shifts his hand just a little, sliding two fingers between Prompto’s labia so the helpless rocking of his hips brings his clit into direct contact. “If you can come without further assistance,” he says, voice raised just slightly over the delightful gasps and whimpers now spilling from Prompto’s lips, “you may do so.”

And in very short order, Prompto _does_.

It’s a beautiful thing to behold, and Ignis will never tire of it. Little frantic motions of his hips, a breathless litany of curses, tightly-shut eyes; he comes with a noise that’s more a sigh than a moan, and melts into the support of his restraints as though they are the only thing keeping him upright. “Thank –“ he has to stop, catch his breath a moment before he tries again. “Oh, _thank you_ , Sir…”

Ignis pulls his hand away, and rests those fingers against Prompto’s bottom lip instead. Though Prompto blushes furiously he offers no complaint, obediently taking Ignis’ fingers into his mouth one by one to suck them clean. He’s quite thorough, and once he’s finished he kisses Ignis’ knuckles, staring wide-eyed and needy up at him. _I did good, right?_ he seems to ask without asking. _Tell me I’ve been good!_

“You’re doing wonderfully, Prompto” Ignis reassures him. “I’m very pleased.” He runs the backs of his fingers down Prompto’s cheek, soaking in the heat from his flushed skin, and Prompto’s eyes flutter shut as he nuzzles eagerly into Ignis’ touch. It’s been far too long, Ignis thinks, with a pang of regret. He should have made time – if not for all of this, at least for a kiss, a touch, a reminder that Prompto is appreciated. Their busy schedule is no excuse when it means Prompto needs those things now more than ever.

“Hey, I – I mean, permission to speak, Sir?” Prompto flinches when he realizes his mistake, but it’s much more important to Ignis that he caught and corrected himself on his own. He runs his fingers through Prompto’s hair in quiet reassurance, and Prompto quickly calms, once again relaxing into the touch.

“You may speak.”

“Can we, like…” He tips his head a little further into Ignis’ hand as he pauses to gather his thoughts, offering up a pleased little hum as Ignis scratches gently at his scalp. “Not do any teasing or – pain stuff, or anything? Kinda just want you to fuck me, Sir. If that’s okay.”

“Your desires are always okay, Prompto,” Ignis gently reminds him. That’s something they’d spent a great deal of time working on, before – well. Before all of this. It’s not surprising that Prompto’s slipped back into old habits under so much stress, but it saddens Ignis to hear it, regardless. Least Prompto take the reminder as a reprimand, he trails his fingers down Prompto’s cheek to take hold of his chin, drawing him in for a kiss.

The soft noises Prompto makes into Ignis’ mouth, the way his eyes flutter closed – by all indications he is very quickly distracted from any self-doubt that might have taken hold.

He makes short work of getting undressed; it feels _wrong_ not to be touching Prompto, in this moment of quiet intimacy they’ve carved out for themselves amidst the chaos. The atmosphere has changed in the wake of Prompto’s request, and depriving him of what he wants, even for a moment, holds no appeal for Ignis this time. There will be other opportunities for him to be strict, but tonight…

Sitting cross-legged, he reaches for Prompto, steadying him with gentle hands against his sides as Prompto crawls into his lap. It takes a few moments for them to line up properly, Prompto careless and a little clumsy in his haste – but they manage it, and Prompto leans forward, drops his head to Ignis’ shoulder as he takes Ignis’ cock to the base in a single fluid moment.

It has been _entirely_ too long since they embraced like this, skin against skin almost from shoulder to hips with only the rope to get between them. Sex could almost come second to this simple intimacy, were Prompto not so tight and fire-hot around him. This is not a position for the hard and fast fucking Prompto often prefers, but the atmosphere isn’t right for that, either. It is more than enough to rock his hips up the few inches he can, Prompto so wet and ready that each shallow thrust meets no resistance. Prompto picks up the rhythm and matches it, grinding down against each upward movement, stifling an obscenity-laced commentary in the curve of Ignis’ neck so that Ignis only catches the occasional word. His legs wrap around Ignis’ waist as though could possibly pull Ignis any closer, as though Ignis could possibly reach any deeper inside him.

Ignis can feel the minute spasms around his cock, the tensed muscles in Prompto’s legs as he struggles for control, subconsciously aware he mustn’t come without permission but too far gone, now, to _ask_. “Prompto, love –“ he tips his head to whisper into Prompto’s ear, and in response Prompto squeezes impossibly tight around him, momentarily stealing Ignis’ breath and his composure. “Come for me, you’ve earned it –“

Prompto whimpers helplessly into Ignis’ shoulder and _comes_ , trembling with the effort, struggling, now, against the rope binding his arms, but it is his tiny, wrecked “ _thank you_ ” that pulls Ignis along after him.

Ignis hardly has time to bask in the afterglow before Prompto is squirming and whining, having finally crossed the line between more than enough and _too much_. With Ignis’ help he lifts himself from Ignis’ lap before toppling over beside him, as sleepy and graceless as a newborn kitten and every bit as endearing. Ignis can’t deny being tempted to follow suit, but one of them has to keep his wits about him, for a little while longer at least.

The knots that took hardly any time at all come free even more easily. Prompto barely moves as he’s untied, shifting just enough of his weight for Ignis to pull the rope free from under him. He’s half-asleep by the time Ignis fully frees his arms, and fully so even before Ignis can get him properly cleaned up.

There is no end to Ignis’ duties, not even this far from what was once the royal city. He should prepare a meal for the two of them; get properly dressed for bed; at the _very_ least he should ensure that Prompto gets tucked away inside his sleeping bag instead of sprawled haphazardly across it… but none of those things will deteriorate into a crisis without his immediate attention. Nothing truly _needs_ doing right this second that cannot be dealt with later. _To hell with it all_ , Ignis thinks as he lies down beside Prompto, and even in his sleep Prompto immediately curls up against him, head tucked against his chest, their heartbeats settling into the same steady rhythm as Ignis drifts off to sleep as well.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback of all kinds is very welcome! You can also find me on Tumblr at [aneroticporkcutletbowl](http://aneroticporkcutletbowl.tumblr.com).


End file.
